


Deflections

by brokenhighways



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sports, Football | Soccer, M/M, Masturbation, Physical Therapy, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenhighways/pseuds/brokenhighways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When star soccer player Jared Padalecki fails to impress after his big money move to Greenfield United, management decide to hire his former mentor Jensen Ackles, who is well known for his impressive, inspirational half-time sessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deflections

**Author's Note:**

> I realised that I hadn’t every written a soccer!au before and it is a World Cup year after all. So. Here you go. This also started off as PWP but…angst crawled its way in and took over. Sigh. Also describing soccer is ridiculously difficult. LOL. Thank you to soncnica for the beta :) All remaining mistakes are my own.

**Deflections**

**i**

They’re down 3-0 and Jared’s missed five attempts on goal. Usually, he’d shrug it off and put it down to a bad day. But he hasn’t scored since his transfer and he can tell that his team mates are getting frustrated; the _fans_ are getting frustrated. Considering the fact that their season tickets are paying for his transfer, he doesn’t blame them. Having a $50 million dollar price tag on your head isn’t easy. Not even after scoring 40 odd goals per season for the last two years.

“Get your head in the game, Padalecki,” Hodge calls out as he wipes himself down with a towel. Jared nods but he doesn’t say anything.

Beaver, the head coach walks into the dressing room. “You’ve got a visitor.” Jared looks up to see Jensen Ackles standing in the doorway.

“I don’t care what you need to do to get his head on right, just do it,” Beaver addresses Jensen. “You’ve got thirteen minutes.” Jared sighs heavily and stands, moves to follow Jensen out of the room. They walk down the hallway until they reach the physio room, which is empty. Jensen lets Jared in first and then locks the door behind him.

“Lay down on the examining table,” Jensen says, all business as usual. Jared’s not sure if they’ve ever had more than one conversation that wasn’t soccer related. Technically, Jensen’s a physical therapist but Jared had hired him as a personal coach when he was at his last club. Let’s just say that Jensen was a good…motivator. Jared’s missed him ever since his move to Greenfield. He’d considered demanding that Jensen follow him as part of his move, but it hadn’t seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

He’s regretting that choice now.

“You feel any pain anywhere?” Jensen asks as he runs his hands down Jared’s bare legs.

Jared nods. “I think I strained my groin a little.” Jensen’s hand makes its way back, sliding beneath his shorts, fingers tickling the edge of Jared’s balls. Jensen’s maybe not what you would call a typical physical therapist. At least, not when it comes to Jared; back when Jared had been a junior getting his big break with an up and coming side, Jensen had been the only one to figure out why Jared seemed to fade out in the second half of the game.

_“You’re too tense,” he’d say as he played the game footage back to Jared. “You need to loosen up.” Jerking off at half-time was weird advice to get from your physical therapist. Even weirder was the fact that try as he might, Jared just couldn’t seem to bring himself off in enough time. Not when all he had was a two minute period to himself in between the manager screaming at them and getting a drink of water._

_“What kind of eighteen year old can’t jerk himself off in less than five minutes?” Jensen asked, once Jared finally had the nerve to admit his predicament. Jensen kind of had no filter._

_“The kind that’s gay and afraid of popping wood in front of a bunch of straight guys,” Jared told him. Jensen gave him a look of disbelief. Jared waited for Jensen to sneer, laugh or mock him, but the other man did neither._

_“Show me,” he said. Jared remembered blinking up at him wondering if Jensen really meant that he should jerk off in front of him. It turned out that he did, and Jared slowly fumbled with his shorts and leaned back on Jensen’s examining table. Jared had been subbed already, on account of it being pre-season, so he had more than five minutes. Not that it made much of a difference when his brain was still set to ‘game, guys in locker room, must not pop wood’. He tugged at his balls, slipped his finger into his hole slightly, but nothing gave him the final urge that he needed; that one last push._

_“What should I do?” he asked Jensen whose eyes had not left Jared’s crotch area since he pulled his shorts down. His interest in Jared was pretty obvious and Jared wondered if he was wrong for wanting Jensen to help him find release – and do a whole lot more. Jensen’s hotness was no secret; it was there for all to see. Sharp jaw accentuated by impeccable cheekbones; the smatter of golden freckles on his face; the luminous green eyes and his lips, his full, gorgeous pink lips. Jared wondered what they’d look like if Jensen sucked his cock, all puffy and red as they formed a sweet, little O around the head of his dick and--_

_“Find someone to give you a hand,” Jensen said with a shrug as he wrote down something on his clipboard. Jared did not even want to know what it was. He felt his skin heating up even further as embarrassment swarmed through him. Maybe he was crazy for wanting all of that; maybe it would all end in tears. But hell, there was no harm in trying. In seeing if Jensen was willing to act on his attraction to Jared._

_He scoffed, “You’re my physical therapist. If anyone should be rubbing parts of me, it’s you.” Jensen didn’t really react, though Jared could hear his breath stall and pick up at a faster pace. He felt his cock strain, tingle in his balls. Ignoring Jensen, he rubbed his hand up and down his shaft swiftly, moaning softly as pleasure rippled through him. Even though he could feel his balls tighten and his cock grow harder there was still no release; he pumped it furiously, eyes rolling back in his head as the sweet high he was chasing escaped him once again. He’d only been doing this for a few minutes; but it felt like hours. It drove Jared crazy. He let go of his cock and leaned back, panting hard as he watched Jensen quietly._

_“You’re being serious,” Jensen said almost wistfully, eyes completely focused on Jared’s penis. “You really can’t come.” Jared opened his mouth, ready to spit out some sarcastic comment, when he felt the ghost of a touch on his dick. Jared let his hands fall away entirely, breathing out deeply as Jensen’s fingers ran down his shaft, ghosting over the vein on the underside. Jared moaned and shifted as he went into sensory overload._

_“Come for me, Jared,” Jensen said with a low grunt and before Jared knew what was happening, his cock was pulsing, shooting out copious white streams of come, all onto Jensen’s fingers. It felt like he was coming for hours and Jensen pulled at his dick the whole time, fingers circling in the mixture, smearing it all over the head. “Guess I have the magic touch.” Jared tried to roll his eyes, but in truth, he was too blissed out from the orgasm to call Jensen out on his cockiness. Plus he’d kind of enjoyed that, as brief as it was. It was the first time someone else’s hand had been on his dick._

Needless to say, that had been the start of some truly memorable half-time intervals for Jared.

Jared snaps out of the memory as Jensen returns back to the examining table with a bottle of lube in his hand. He leans down and pulls down Jared’s form fitting, white briefs, leaving his cock and balls exposed. He feels a shiver running through him as he lies there exposed, phantom air curling around his dick, sending shockwaves to his nerve endings. Jared glances over at the large clock on the far side of the room. Nine minutes. Jensen’s coating his hand with the slick, shiny lube and he turns to Jared, hand all sticky, wet and _right there_.

“So, you never called,” he says. “What happened to not forgetting about all the people who got you to where you are today, huh?” Jared swallows. He’s not sure what to say. He _has_ been busy, but…that’s not his reason for not calling. He’d thought that Jensen was just being nice when he’d given him his card and said ’ _stay in touch_ ’ because they’d been fucking on and off since that day when Jensen jacked him off and they’d never uttered so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’. Usually, it was ' _where does it hurt?_ ’ or ‘ _put some ice on it_ ’ and sometimes even, _‘if you win this game, I’ll let you fuck me.”_

“I didn’t know you wanted me to call,” Jared says as he shifts on the table uncomfortably. He glances at the clock again. Seven minutes. He reaches down and palms at his dick, hissing as the tension increases. Jensen doesn’t reply, he just steps forward and pulls Jared’s legs upwards so that his buttocks and cock are even more exposed. He clambers on top of the table and kneels in between Jared’s legs.

“We can’t fuck,” Jared says a little desperately because he _wants,_ wants to so bad but he can’t get injured in the middle of the game that they’re losing 3-0.

“Don’t plan on it,” Jensen says as his fingers breach Jared’s hole. Jared lets out a low hiss of pain, legs widening as Jensen makes it past the first ring of resistance, the lube guiding the way and making it smoother. Jensen doesn’t waste any time scissoring his fingers, using them to stretch Jared’s asshole wide and open. A third finger joins the previous two and Jared jolts forward, making Jensen’s fingers slip further. Jensen presses as deep as he can; until he finally comes into contact with Jared’s prostate. Sparks fly behind Jared’s eyes as Jensen keeps on finger fucking him and he’s coming untouched, his come splattering on Jensen’s green scrubs and the bottom of his chin.

Fuck.

“You’ve got a minute to get back out there,” Jensen says as he slides off the table, looking far too composed for someone who’s got spunk all over their hands.

“Usual stakes still apply?” he asks, as he shoves his shorts back on and hops off the table.

“You really think that y’all can come back from three goals down?” Jensen says with a grin. Jared nods. “Fine. If you win, you get to fuck me, if you lose…well, you _lose_.” They never talk about draws because Jensen’s kind of got this irrational hatred towards them. Apparently there’s no point in playing a game where there’s no clear winner. Jared always rolls his eyes and distracts Jensen whenever gets into that particular rant.

After he leaves the physio room, he pops back into the changing room and grabs his shirt. Welling, the captain, is still there and he pats Jared on the arm.

“How’d it go with Ackles’?” he asks.

Jared shoves his head over his shirt and grins. “Good. It was good. He always knows the right things to say, the right pointers about my game, that kind of thing. I’m feeling confident about the next forty five minutes.”

“Alright, kid,” Welling says with a laugh. “Let’s go out there and kick ass.”

Jared smiles to himself as he runs through the dugout and onto the pitch, smell of freshly cut grass lingering in the air.

“Hey, Padalecki,” Beaver yells from where he’s pouncing on the touchline. “Eye on the ball at all times and remember to be aware of Welling at all times.” Jared nods and empties the rest of his water bottle over his head. He tosses it to the side and jogs up to the six-yard box.

As he waits for the referee to blow the whistle, he finds himself thinking about Jensen and their little bet. It’s been almost four months since the last time they got to fuck; before his transfer was a done deal and the club were refusing to let him hire Jensen on a personal basis. Four months of pining and pent up frustration. Four months of _nothing_ (unless his little fumble with Welling counts, but Jared doesn’t think it does) and Jared’s done waiting.

He’s going to go out there and play like his life depends on it.

**ii**

“Good second half,” Jensen says when Jared gets back from the showers. He’s sitting on one of the benches in front of the lockers. Jared’s surprised to see him waiting here. They don’t usually do _this_ in the locker rooms, or anywhere they could get caught. In fact, Jared might have just had the best second-half game of his life, but the other team still managed to equalize in the last minute leaving the final score at 4-4. Sometimes he agrees with Jensen’s stance. It’s crazy to think that he scored _four_ fucking goals and all the team got was a measly point.

“Thanks,” Jared replies when he realises that Jensen is watching him; his eyes taking in his form and darkening slightly. He stares right back, tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth and he drinks in the sight. Jensen’s still in his physical therapist tracksuit pants; the jacket discarded somewhere leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt that outlines his washboard stomach, pectorals and biceps rather nicely. He’s also right in front of Jared’s locker, which is probably not a coincidence. Deciding not to continue with their silent stare-off, Jared lets the towel around his waist drop to the floor. He’s still dripping wet, but that doesn’t seem to both Jensen if the appreciative look on his face is anything to go by.

“I thought we deserved to win,” he says, suddenly feeling stupid now that he has nothing to do _but_ stand there naked. Luckily, Jensen’s gaze seems to be firmly planted on Jared’s cock, eyes darkening hungrily as he stares at it. Even though they didn’t win; it’s still been _four months_ since they’ve seen each other. Four months since Jared pounded away at Jensen’s sweet little ass. They both want this; that much is obvious. “We had the drive, more passion than they did. They got lucky with that last goal. _And_ I scored at least two more goals than everyone else, so technically, I won at _my_ game.” Jared has no idea what he’s saying but Jensen can be notoriously uptight about the rules sometimes. Especially after 0-0 draws. Jared figures that four goals’ have got to get him _something_.

“I can’t argue with _that_ logic,” Jensen says with a gentle laugh. He stands up and Jared feels hope blossoming in his chest. “I just came here to tell you that I’m going home. The guys wanted me to tell you that they’re meeting up at the usual bar, at eight.” With that, Jensen exits through the door, leaving Jared standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

~

It doesn’t take Jared long to track down Jensen’s hotel room number. Probably because his agent, Chad, has been staying in the same hotel and casually mentions it to Jared during some stupid promotional dinner he has to be at. It’s eleven pm by the time that is over and the guys are probably rounding up at the bar, so Jared decides to head to Jensen‘s hotel room.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to show up,” Jensen says when he answers. Jared checks the hallway to see if anyone is watching, but it’s clear. He slips in quietly and shuts the door behind him. He hands over the disc in his hand.

“I thought we could go over the game?” Jensen gives him a knowing look. Going over the game is the excuse they came up with when a former teammate caught him sneaking out of Jensen’s hotel room once, in the wee hours of the morning. It’d helped that he’d had a disc in his hand, even though there wasn’t a single minute of soccer on it.

“I was actually trying to catch up with the rest of the other games,” Jensen says from where he’s lying on his bed, feet up as he watches the soccer highlights on mute.

“What about our bet?” Jared asks, because he’s horny and – _four months_ , he’s willing to bet that he can outlast the duration of whatever mind tricks Jensen is playing.

“Well, you didn’t _win_ ,” Jensen replies. “So I guess I’ll see you during the next game – if I sign the contract that is.”

Jared frowns as he walks over and sits at the edge of the bed, effectively blocking Jensen’s view of the television. “Is this about me not calling you?” They’ve never really had a conventional _relationship_ , or even a relationship. If anything; they’re fuck buddies. Not that Jared has a whole string of boyfriends or anything. He steps out occasionally with whatever lanky blonde or brunette Chad’s paying to pretend to be his girlfriend, but apart from that it’s his right hand and Jensen.

“No,” Jensen says, voice too blunt for Jared to accept that his answer is the truth. “But it was kind of weird that there was just nothing from you after six years of…whatever. Like, now that some other club had thrown money at you, you didn’t need my help or my _ass_ anymore.”

Jared bites at his lip. He can see what Jensen’s saying and how it looks that way. And Jensen wouldn’t have given him his number just for the sake of it. He suddenly feels like an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For making you feel like I didn’t care. Because I _do_.” Jensen shrugs and Jared decides to show that he means what he says without doing anything sexual. He moves further up the bed and presses a chaste kiss onto Jensen’s mouth, using the pad of his thumb to swipe at Jensen’s lips after. He pulls back afterwards and stands up, makes his way over to the door.

“Have a good night, Jensen,” he says before he leaves.

**iii**

Greenfield win their next game with a hard fought for 2-0 victory and Jared is giddy on the coach ride back to the hotel. Hopefully Jensen will be in a better mood than he was last week. Jared’s done his best to smooth things over Jensen since the hotel meeting. So much so that the last text he got from Jensen reads _if you txt me ONE more smiley face, im going to KILL you_. And he hadn’t needed to jerk off at half-time for once (the other team’s penchant for kicking the shit out of him every time he got the ball kind of wilted any chance of getting hard during the game). So he’s hoping that Jensen won’t turn him down this time.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Jensen asks from where he’s reading something on his iPad. They’re sharing a hotel room on account of it being an away game for them, and as Jared was the last player to join the team, he was the only one without an assigned roommate, ergo, Jensen got to room with him.

Jared is taking this as a sign from the Gods.

“I was just thinking about my goal,” Jared grins. He hadn’t been, but hell if he isn’t now, it’s definitely the best one he’s scored in a long time. A complete curler, from 30 yards out that dipped and slammed right into the top left hand corner. He’d kicked the ball with his left foot as well, which wasn’t what many considered to be his better foot. Not that players cared about these types of things, but they were all there to do the media’s bidding.

“It was pretty good,” Jensen says. “Actually, I was kind of disappointed not to see you at half-time. Thought you might have had a better offer.”

Jared laughs. “Yeah, begging someone for a Band-Aid was just so much more better than getting my PT to give me a good work over.”

“I did notice that they seemed to be kicking into you a lot.” Jensen grimaces. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.” Things get a little awkward so Jared busies himself with changing into his sleep pants and putting his stuff away. As he sits down on his bed, he feels a twinge in his left leg and he frowns and rubs at it. It doesn’t seem like it’s anything serious so he leaves it be and sits back on the bed, leaning against his propped up pillows.

“Are you sure that you’re fine?” Jensen asks. “I saw you rubbing at your leg.” Jared thinks about lying and making it sound a lot worse than he is, but he doesn’t want to trick Jensen into having sex with him.

“It’s fine,” he says once again.

Jensen puts his tablet down and swings his legs over the side of his bed. “I better check it out just in case. Last thing I need is Beaver on my ass, telling me that I’m not worth the money they’re paying me.”

“He says that to me _all_ the time,” Jared says. Jensen raises an eyebrow as he reaches Jared. He leans down and picks up his leg, testing out its flexibility.

“In your case, he’s right,” Jensen retorts. “What the fuck do you need over 100 grand a week for?”

“I’ve got to fund my Krispy Kreme addiction _somehow_.”

“And those pretty girls you’re always pictured with. They look like they have expensive taste.” Jared tries not to take offence to that joke, even if it was kind of low. He and Jensen haven’t ever discussed him being gay, not in depth, so Jared knows that Jensen doesn’t know how much Jared wishes he could tell everyone and just stop pretending. He wishes that he didn’t have to stumble out of clubs with some stranger on his arm, wishes that he could be himself. He pulls his leg out of Jensen’s grip.

“It’s feeling a lot better now,” he says shortly. Jensen looks surprised at his turn of mood.

“I didn’t mean anything by the comment, dude,” he says. “It was a joke.”

Jared sighs. “I know. I get it. I think I’m gonna call it a night.” It’s only nine pm, but after the game, the press interviews and the drive back to the coach, Jared’s still pretty tired.

~

They’re up late the next morning, leaving them with only half an hour to grab a shower, get dressed and get their asses down to the bus. Jensen sits up in his bed, his short hair sticking up in a million different directions.

“You can go first,” he says. Jared considers this and then he shrugs.

“We can just share? It’ll take less time that way.” He’s shared countless number of showers over the years; it’s kind of par for the course when you’re an athlete. Of course, his sleep addled brain doesn’t account for the fact that the double shower is still kind of _confined_ , because he kind of can’t stop staring at Jensen’s ass as water runs down his back, and he lathers himself up, white soap suds sliding down his skin. He’s so distracted that he barely manages to scrub at his own skin. He turns, ducking his head down under the spray of water. He can still _feel_ Jensen’s presence next to him, aware of every movement he makes. Jared takes a deep breath and chances another look. Jensen’s looking right back at him. Even with the streams of water running down his body and the steamy mist, he can see that Jensen’s just affected as he is.

He’s not sure who moves first; not sure that it even matters when they’re clinging onto each other, kissing so hard that Jared’s lips feel as if they’re on fire. As their tongues battle furiously, Jared grinds himself on Jensen’s slick body, moaning when their cocks brush against each other. He reaches out and palms Jensen’s ass, hands cupping each globe and rubbing at the wet skin. They kiss and rut against each other for a few more minutes before Jensen lets go, turns Jared around so that he’s braced against the wall. Positioning himself behind Jared, he starts to slide his cock between the V of Jared’s legs, grunting slightly as his cock nudges against the base of Jared’s balls over and over again. Jared reaches down and works at his cock, fast and hard, crying out silently when he spills into his hand. Jensen’s not far behind, Jared feels him convulse behind him and he turns back around, attacking Jensen’s mouth again, as the hot water cascades around them.

~

They make it to the bus, twenty minutes later than the scheduled time but they’re not the last ones there. Jared breathes a sigh of relief as he slides next to Jensen and hooks his headphones around his neck. He looks over at Jensen and he feels this _strong_ wave of emotion and he realises then that he wants this. He wants to have a real relationship with Jensen, not the casual and game-related hook-ups they’ve been through since they first met.

He wants it so bad that it _hurts_.

~

**iv**

Later on during the week, Jared stays back late after training to go through some link-up plays with Greenfield’s other main striker, Tom Welling. They practice for an hour before they head to the showers. Tom’s done first and he says something about going to get an ice down for his knee. Jared waves him off and gets dressed, hoping to catch Jensen before he goes home. Usually Jensen’s around on training days, helping with the other players even though management hired him solely for Jared. They’ve been ordered to extra sessions; though Jared bailed on him today to work on his partnership up front with Tom. While the two of them didn’t play all that badly together, they were yet to _click_. He found that Tom ran in his space a lot and vice versa.

He slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves the locker room, heading straight down the hall and around the corner. Jensen’s still in a makeshift office at the back of the training ground so it takes Jared a good five minutes to get there. He gets distracted by one of the workers, who commends Jared on what a good job he’s done so far, and then the worker goes on to say how much of a huge fan his son is and before Jared knows it, he’s signing a bunch of memorabilia and posing for pictures.

By the time he reaches Jensen’s office, the hallways are clear and most of the rooms are empty. Jared smiles to himself as he reaches to push the door open, only to see that it’s already ajar. He frowns and looks up to see Jensen pressed against his desk…by one Tom Welling. They’re kissing _hard_ , hands roaming everywhere and—and Jared can’t watch anymore.

He turns and leaves, practically running by the time he reaches the parking lot.

**v**

Despite the fact that Jared is angry as hell, he still goes to Jensen during the next half time. He figures that they can hash it out in fifteen minutes and he’s played a stinker so far anyway, he knows that he’s a shoe-in for an early substitution already, given the yellow card he picked up and the fouls he’s been committing.

“What’s up with you, man?” Jensen says when Jared barges in and slams the door. “You’ve been kind of weird over the past few days. And you’re off today; hell you almost broke Rodri’s leg.”

The worst part about that is that Rodriguez is a _Greenfield_ player. He’s actually a pretty nice guy and Jared decides to buy him a watch or caviar or something as a way of apology.

“Why don’t you ask your new boyfriend, Welling?” Jared spits out, from where he’s still hovering by the door. “The two of you looked awfully close the other day.”

Jensen frowns. “Have you been _spying_ on me?” The way he says it makes Jared stomach lurch; as if he would do something like _that_.

“No!” Jared explodes with rage. “I didn’t need to when you were putting on display for everyone to see.”

Jensen eyes him closely, anger flitting through his eyes. “What I do with my personal life is nothing to do with you, Padalecki. Butt out.”

“I thought…on Sunday when we…in the shower,” Jared stutters, suddenly unable to get his words out right. “I thought it meant something.”

Jensen laughs coldly. “You thought wrong, man. I’m sorry. What we have is a business arrangement. I do what I can to help you perform to the best of your ability and afterwards we have a little fun. It is – no _was_ – reward based system.”

“A business arrangement?” Jared exclaims. “I’m not your John, hiring you out before every fucking game!”

“You might as well be.” That’s the last straw for Jared. He gets that he might be acting irrational over the Tom thing, but Jensen doesn’t need to taint the years they’ve spent together because of one overreaction.

“Fuck you,” he spits out. “Fuck you. I’m done. Have fun with Tom.” He leaves, slamming the door behind him. Surprisingly, Beaver doesn’t sub him and Jared exits the pitch 12 minutes into the second half after being shown a second yellow card. Beaver is seething on the touchline as Jared throws his headband onto the ground and storms down into the dugout and straight through the doors that lead to the changing rooms.

**vi**

The next day, Jared finds himself seated across from the clubs sports psychologist, Danneel Ackles. According to Beaver, he has to see her at least once a week if he wants to remain on the team sheet each week. He’s only due to serve a one match ban, but Jared can’t help wishing it was longer. He’s barely been at Greenfield for two months and he’s _exhausted_. It means that he’s loose lipped when Danneel starts probing him for answers and he ends up spilling the entire Jensen-related mess to her, right down to every detail.

“Do you think he meant what he said,” she asks once he’s done.

Jared shrugs. “At this point it doesn’t matter. He’s right; we did basically have a reward based system, to the point where it affected my game.”

Danneel nods. “Well, I can definitely help you out with your performance related issues. That’s what I’m here for and funnily enough, you’re not the only one who has these kinds of issues. In fact, Jensen really should have referred you to one of the psychologists after you went to him.” Jared winces at the disapproval in her voice.

“It’s not like I was underage or anything,” he says, deciding not to mention that Jensen is basically the first guy he ever really fooled around with. “It was all consensual. I don’t want Jensen to get in trouble or anything.”

“Everything you’ve told me will remain in strict confidence,” Danneel reassures him. “But I would advise you to talk through things with Jensen at some stage.”

Jared nods his agreement despite knowing that he’s got no intention of doing that.

~

Talking with Danneel actually helps and Jared finds that he can actually _breathe_ at half time now that he doesn’t always have a stupid erection (well, not _stupid_ but distracting) to deal with. The mind is a funny thing, he decides. Apparently all he lacked was the right amount of focus. He’d been too busy focusing on the other players instead of the _game_ itself. Once he makes the distinction clear, he doesn’t need to worry about arousal, just the drive to win, and to play his best. Sometimes, on his darker days, Jared finds himself wondering why Jensen never came up with a solution to his problem. But then he realizes that Jensen’s always done his job and then some, he remembers the pep talks, the inspirational words. All the things that weren’t really his place to do, all the extra demands Jared had for him and he thinks that Jensen did a lot more than anyone else would have.

**vii**

Two months after his fight with Jensen, Jared strains his hamstring and ends up being ordered to three weeks of PT with Jensen. He’s not angry anymore, he’s not sure that he ever was. Just hurt and…in love. That’s what it was, _love_. Jared’s sure of it now, not that he plans on ever doing anything about it. It wouldn’t work between them because while the emotions had been there, they’d never had a chance to blossom into something good. Jared knows what Jensen sounded like when he comes, has memorized the expression on his face while he’s being fucked, and other silly stupid things like that which are just material because he doesn’t _know_ Jensen. There is still a huge boundary between them that’s never going to come down.

“Hey,” Jensen says when he enters the examining room. He’s got a clipboard in his hand and his standard green medical outfit on. Jared swallows hard and does his best not to react.

“Hi,” he replies with a nod. Jensen smiles slightly and studies Jared’s notes for a while before setting them down. He squeezes some antibacterial gel onto his hands and rubs it in.

“This is the third hamstring injury I’ve looked at today,” Jensen muses quietly. Jared doesn’t reply. Jensen seems to take the hint and he works on Jared’s thigh in silence, only stopping when Jared tenses up in pain or to ask him how it feels.

“Just try and it keep it elevated and ice it in regular intervals,” Jensen says once he’s done. “I’ll see you back here in a few days.”

“Thanks,” Jared says shortly as he sits up slowly and shrugs his jacket back on. He can feel Jensen’s eyes on him but he ignores it.

“Jared, wait,” Jensen says just as Jared reaches the door. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said about us having an arrangement…it was cruel.”

Jared shakes his head. “No. It was fair. You were right. It was for all terms and purposes, a business arrangement. An unhealthy one that we both should have stopped before it got too far. So for that I’m sorry as well. I had no right to get all up in your face over Tom. Especially when I may have had my own little…situation with Tom.”

“Of course you did,” Jensen says with a laugh. It doesn’t sound bitter or angry and Jared’s grateful that Jensen’s a hell of a lot more mature than he is. “For what it’s worth me and Tom aren’t even together. We were never together. It would be like, dating my brother.”

“But the two of you were—“

“Kissing, yes,” Jensen laughs. “It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you some time?”

“I don’t think so,” Jared responds. “I think it’s best if we just stay away from each other from now on.”

“Jared, you don’t mean that,” Jensen says. “I’ve missed you these past couple of months. And I don’t want us to lose our friendship over a stupid kiss that meant nothing.”

“That’s just it; we don’t have a friendship, Jensen, we never did. I know practically nothing about you but…I _feel_ so much. And I don’t know how to deal with that right now. Not when I have to focus on my game.”

“So, soccer comes first to you, is that it?”

Jared sighs. “I’m not going to get into an argument with you.”

“We’re not arguing, Jared,” Jensen snaps. “We’re _talking_. That means you talk, I listen and I talk, _you_ listen. You’re not the only that feels a lot, Jared. God, I wish that you’d just called me, back when we weren’t at the same club, because you just…took me by surprise all those years ago. I don’t fuck all of the players I treat and I don’t compromise my professionalism or my job for anyone, Jared. Except you, and each time I’d say ‘no more’ and ‘this is the last time’ but I couldn’t stop. When you moved to Greenfield it was like there was this _hole_ in my chest, this empty pain that I couldn’t fill, no matter what I tried. Why else do you think I switched to Greenfield five weeks after the start of the season?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Because I missed you,” Jensen says desperately. “I needed you.”

Jared breathes out deeply, only realizing that he’s been standing on his bad leg for a few minutes. He shuffles over to the chair by Jensen’s desk and he sits in it. He kneads his hands and places them on his lap.

“And all I wanted to do was have sex with you,” he says, as the realization dawns on him. Jensen flushes slightly and Jared can’t help finding it _adorable_.

“That’s what it felt like,” Jensen replies. “I got talking to Tom – we know each other from way back – and he came up with that stupid plan. The kiss. It was to make you jealous and…I guess it kind of backfired on me because all of the anger and frustration just kind of tumbled out.”

“You basically accused me of treating you like a whore,” Jared points out.

“I know,” Jensen says. “And I’m sorry for that but…I had dropped so many hints that I _liked_ you in a…romantic sense and I was getting nothing from you. I just thought that maybe it was all about sex for you.”

“It wasn’t,” Jared says. “I owe you everything. All the success I’ve had is down to you and…I don’t know, you make me happy. Even though I feel like we still have a _lot_ to learn about each other, I feel better when I’m around it you …like I can do _anything_ I set my mind to.”

“So in conclusion, we’re both emotionally stunted idiots who should learn how to talk to each other?” Jensen smiles. Jared laughs and shrugs.

“I’m a soccer player; I do my talking on the pitch,” he teases. “What’s your excuse?”

**Viii**

It’s the last game of the season and Greenfield are up one-nil against the third place team, Westmore F.C, who happen to be Jared’s old team. They’re on the same points as the leaders of the table, but second due to goal difference. If Greenfield win by 3-0, they’ve won the championship and right now they have nine minutes left to go. Jared collects the ball from Aldis and does a couple of step-overs as he outruns the defenders, booting the ball up towards the six yard box where Tom is waiting patiently, eyes tracking the ball’s every move. Tom spins and shoots a valley straight at Westmore’s keeper, Rosenbaum. Jared swears under his breath and runs back as Rosenbaum prepares to take a goal kick. He glances at clock. Seven minutes. He surges into the box as he collects the ball, left foot extended to shoot it when an opposition player comes sliding in, bringing Jared to his feet right in the middle of the penalty area. The referee blows his whistle and points to the spot. The rest of his teammates start cheering loudly and patting him on the back but Jared doesn’t react. He grabs the ball and places it onto the penalty spot, breathing harshly as nerves begin to ricochet around his stomach

He focuses on the goal posts and Rosenbaum, mentally calculating the best way to play it. He’s practiced numerous penalties in training, even scored a couple during the season and yet this is the one that means the most. It has everything riding on it. Jared takes one last deep breath, runs up towards the ball and shoots…right against Mike’s hands. Dread starts to fill his stomach but Rosenbaum can’t keep ahold of the ball and Jared darts forward and taps it in. The stadium erupts into a firestorm of noise, crowd chanting his name as he collects the ball from the back of the net and runs around the pitch, pumping his arms wildly. From the touchline, he can hear Beaver screaming “REGROUP, REGROUP, STAY FOCUSED!” and he lets the ball go and slowly jogs back into position. Westmore are rattled now, increasingly desperate and thus, more prone to mistakes.

Jared intercepts a pass, biting back a grin as he runs forward; an eye tracking Tom’s run through the middle of the pitch. He reaches the edge of the six yard box and acts like he’s going to shoot but instead he plays a low shot to Tom, who controls the ball with his left foot and then shoots with his right, ball curving sweetly and situating itself in the top right corner of the net. The stadium burst to life once again, crowd screaming with joy as the players show their jubilation by jumping on top of each other, back slapping and hugging as the announcer calls out the updated score. They manage to keep the score steady and soon the whistle’s blowing and they’re all running around the pitch, hollering and congratulating each other.

They’ve done it. They’ve won the fucking championship.

~

Later than night, after the partying is over and Jared’s a little worse for wear, he gets home to find Jensen sitting in his bed, with the sheets not doing much to cover his modesty.

“I believe you’re yet to collect on a bet we made about you getting to fuck me if you win a game,” he says huskily as Jared stands in the doorway and blinks at him stupidly. They’ve been dating tentatively ever since they talked. Going to the movies, grabbing dinner, falling asleep together on the couch, all very PG-13 rated activities. Not that Jared minds; it’s nice, hell it’s fucking awesome that they get along well together even _without_ sex.

Still, no way in hell is he going to turn down the chance to fuck Jensen; God knows that he’s waited long enough. They both have, and it’s time. It’s not just fucking anymore, Jared is realizing; it’s making love. He says this and Jensen lets out a mock ‘awwww’, but Jared can see that Jensen feels the same way, and that’s enough for him. He doesn’t waste any time in crawling onto the bed and kissing Jensen, all hot and filthy as he peels back the covers. Jared wastes no time in ridding himself of his clothes and lowering himself down onto Jensen, grinning as he grinds his crotch onto Jensen’s, and the heat of their hard-ons mix together, sending waves of pleasure through the both of them. He teases Jensen’s hole, fingers mixing in the lube already gathered there, his cock growing even harder at the thought of Jensen preparing himself while Jared wasn’t there. Jensen spreads his legs wide and growls ‘fuck me, already’ and Jared decides not to waste any more time.

After retrieving a condom and lube, and slicking himself up, he centers himself and slowly inches his cock into Jensen’s tight little hole. Once Jensen gives him the go ahead, he starts to fuck up into him, thrusts getting harder, faster and deeper in quick succession. Jensen’s fingernails scratch against Jared’s back as he tries to find purchase.That only serves to drive Jared even crazier and thrust himself inside Jensen deeper, over and over again until all he can hear is the sound of his balls hitting Jensen’s ass cheeks, loud and static in the room. Jensen’s making a series of garbled moans and Jared revels in each one, reaching down to kiss Jensen lazily, slowing his thrust until it’s just a lazy swivel of his hips, his cock pressing against Jensen’s prostate each time. Jensen’s moans get louder and louder until they’re just white noise as the tension in Jared’s balls explodes, and comes inside Jensen, cock pulsing as he empties his load into the condom. Jensen follows suit soon after, jets of white spurting onto his stomach as Jared watches. A few minutes later, he pulls out of Jensen, leaning down to kiss him when he catches him grimacing slightly. Jensen’s lips taste like coffee and sugar and Jared deepens the kiss, tongue so far back in Jensen’s mouth that he can almost feel his throat.

“You played a great game, by the way,” Jensen says as he pants harshly, once they’ve come up for air. “You won the fucking league!”

Jared smiles from where he’s lying next to Jensen, his chest also heaving upward and downward while he regains his breath. He turns to face Jensen, making sure their eyes are locked as he says, “ _We_ won the league. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “You could have. If I hadn’t have come to Greenfield, you still would have been the catalyst that Greenfield needed to break their losing streak – you’re an amazing player, Jared.”

“Can we just agree that our combined awesomeness is what won Greenfield the league,” Jared says with chuckle. “’else we’ll be trading compliments all night and…there are other things that I’d rather trade if you get my drift.”

“Krispy Kremes?” Jensen suggests, with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Well, an O shape _is_ involved.” Jensen rolls his eyes and laughs all the same, his vibrant green eyes twinkling in the low light of Jared’s bedroom. As he strokes Jensen’s face and smiles at him softly, Jared can’t help wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

_Fin_


End file.
